


I Couldn't Tell

by Asorenii (orphan_account)



Category: The Witcher (TV), The Witcher (TV) RPF, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Excuse to write angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Injured Jaskier | Dandelion, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Major Character Injury, Miscommunication, Monsters, No actual Rape/Non-con, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Screaming, This Is STUPID, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), not my best work, ooc characters probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Asorenii
Summary: Geralt allows Jaskier to accompany him on his latest hunt in a run-down town in the middle of nowhere that's supposedly dealing with a creature nastier than any Geralt has encountered thus far.Injured while fighting, Geralt's body reacts poorly to the beast's venom and he suffers from graphic hallucinations, and he wakes up with no memory of the fight and a bard that's suddenly had a personality shift from being bubbly and happy, to smelling like sour terror whenever Geralt looks his way.Then, his bard leaves him.What did he do?(First two chapters suck, they are being revamped currently.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write anything without angst, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Definitely not a read for those who dislike heavy angst and physical miscommunications.

"I can't believe you've finally got a hunt of something you don't know!"   
  
Jaskier's voice was bright in comparison to the rest of the aura around them- wet, cold, and dark. The path they were on was covered in decaying leaves, puddles of murky water and animal piss, and the limp branches of the dying trees around them. The entire forest was on its last leg of life, which didn't give Geralt much hope of finding anything simple to fight.   
  
The alderman of the small town was a rickety old man who matched the forest- wispy and broken. The entire village, in fact, looked to be about in the same condition. The monster had been plaguing them for years, and no man ever returned from the fight alive. Geralt wanted to call a bluff that there even was a monster, but he couldn't dismiss the abysmal state of the town to be simply bad luck.   
  
So he'd agreed to the contract for well under his normal pay simply to do the town a favour and to get free bedding for the ever-whining bard attached to his hip. He'd warned Jaskier that since he didn't know what beast it was, joining him was even stupider to do now than ever. The bard never seemed to truly listen to Geralt, so Geralt believed that if anything were to happen to the bard, he couldn't blame Geralt.   
  
Geralt didn't actually believe that; he'd never dismiss Jaskier- but it was the only comfort he could take as they slowly crept further and further away from the town and into the forest. Even with his enhanced hearing and sense of smell- nothing overpowered the rotten scent of the dying plants and animals around them. It was like walking through a bog of shit and piss, all the while trying to smell for a daisy.  
  
"Here," he grunted as they entered a small clearing against the path. He glanced to Jaskier. "We'll set up camp." The bard, to his credit, quickly masked a look of disgust as Geralt set their bags down and the leather created a suction-like seal against the wet mud. Unbuckling the bags, Geralt busied himself with preparing for the hunt as he counted his potions and uncorked two of them, pointedly ignoring Jaskier's stare as he shot them back like cheap whiskey with a grunt. The taste never got any better, and Geralt liked to pretend he didn't know the ingredients he prepared them with.   
  
"Fire?" Jaskier asked, holding out the flint he carried. Geralt shook his head. "Too wet, and we don't know what this monster is. Best safe to keep it dark."   
  
The bard grumbled about it also being wet, cold, and uncomfortable, but he stopped once Geralt stood up. Eyes already adjusting and the full-body chill told him the potions were already going into effect.   
  
"You're staying here, Jaskier."   
  
"Wha- I thought we agreed I could come with you! Witness the battle!" Jaskier made the move to stand before being shoved down quickly. He one again tried before Geralt's eyes met his. A thud and squeal.   
  
Geralt's hand fell to Jaskier's shoulders to stop the two of them from moving suddenly. He cut the bard off with a sharp ' _shut it_ ' as an ominous squeal echoed from the forest around them once more. Geralt pulled his sword off of his back and narrowed his eyes.   
  
"Stay behind for once," He said lowly, already stalking forward as the sound of skittering and squealing echoed again.   
  
"Right, right. Stay behind you and stay out of trouble!" The bard stuck behind Geralt infuriatingly close, nearly kissing his ass with how often his feet failed him in the thick mud. Geralt kept his head above his shoulder as he began to try and pinpoint where the sounds were coming from.   
  
He didn't have much time before the beast broke through the treeline.   
  
It was ginormous- at least the size of a healthy adult kikimora. It had spindle-like legs and looked like a mutant insect with a snake's body. Beady eyes on the front of its face narrowed onto the two of them and it's mouth opened to shriek horribly, revealing a circular jaw of pin-like teeth.   
  
Geralt braced himself as it lunged, thankful that for once, the bard had finally decided to scurry away before he had to tell him to.   
  
The impact was more than he expected and the beast thrust him to the ground and pinned him to the mud with its legs. He thrust his sword up and clipped the side of its face, a line of dark green blood gushing from the wound. It only worsened the weight on his body and he could feel his ribs groan as the beast tried to strike him again with its teeth.   
  
It bounced off his armour, the teeth dragging parallel lines down the thick leather as it failed to keep a hold on him. Geralt grunted and swung upwards again, knocking the head away from him and one leg out from under the beast. He rolled out of the way and the monster stumbled to the side, and he pushed himself up and off of the mud just in time to meet another violent strike.   
  
It moved exactly like a coiling snake would, the rest of its body tightly wound before it sent its head to lunge and attack at Geralt. He was able to scurry backwards, dodging and parrying its mouth away from him for enough time to try and find a weak spot.   
  
The beast reared up and revealed the soft, unprotected patch underneath the joint of its neck. Geralt narrowed his eyes and prepared for the pain as he stayed in his position, angling his sword to cut right through the neck and the beast clamped its jaws down around his shoulder.   
  
Witcher's pain sensitivity was boasted to be mutated so that they may survive even the roughest of situations, and Geralt knew he was tolerant of a lot. But nothing- nothing compared to the fire attacking his arm.   
  
The beast's head was barely attached to its body as Geralt yanked his sword out of its body and crumpled to his knees. He dropped the weapon and wrenched his arm out of its limp mouth, cradling his shoulder as he panted and let his face contort into a pained frown.   
  
He blinked his eyes open, his vision swimming already as he used the head as leverage to stand up. Swaying for a moment, he slowly got himself oriented and picked his sword up to resheath it, ignoring the squelch of blood as it entered the worn leather against his back.   
  
Slowly, he turned around. It was dark, even with the potions in his system. He didn't remember where he was, and that put him on edge. Sounds were muted, and all he could smell was rotten magic and the blood against his body. Slowly, he retraced his steps.   
  
*  
  
Jaskier had ran the second he'd seen the monster. He was okay with most, but this was definitely new and too frightening to stick around for. Geralt would be fine, he knew that the moment Geralt's shoulders tightened as he grabbed his sword. That was the stance of a man willing to fight, not forced.   
  
His suspicions were confirmed when he heard the heavy and wet splat of boots against mud and looked up to see the silhouette of his Witcher approaching the campsite once again. It was just barely light enough to see, but his eyes had adjusted enough to find the movement he needed to.   
  
"Geralt!"   
  
The Witcher only trudged closer, eyes still pitch-black as he looked the bard up and down. The glare was predatory. Wrong.   
  
Jaskier's heart picked up pace slightly as he chuckled and set his lute down. He'd yet to even pluck a string before Geralt's growling started. But that wasn't what he was worried about.   
  
He stayed frozen to his spot as Geralt dumped his sword to the ground and lunged, and Jaskier barely had enough time to yell before he was being tackled to the ground.   
  
His hands scrabbled uselessly against Geralt's armour as the Witcher shoved him into the mud, his elbow digging into his sternum as Geralt's hand viciously attached itself to Jaskier's neck.   
  
His body went cold with terror as Geralt's hand increased the pressure around his throat. He croaked out a plea to stop, his legs kicking underneath Geralt's as he fruitlessly tried to escape from underneath the other's mass.   
  
His head felt hot and his limbs slowly felt like they filled with lead, and he could only blink as Geralt picked him up by the neck to shove him into the nearest tree, black eyes staring emotionlessly as Jaskier choked against the pressure, blinking away the black and white spots filling his vision. Geralt said nothing and only growled again, his free hand joining the other to throttle the bard.   
  
Jaskier's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he finally succumbed to the lack of air, his entire body going limp in the Witcher's grasp. That seemed to satisfy the feral man, who let the bard's unconscious body fall to a boneless heap at the base of the tree before returning to the camp, unphased by his actions.   
  
The Witcher sat himself onto the sleeping mat closest to Roach and shut his eyes, silent as he fell deep into meditation- oblivious to the pained wheezing and rattling behind him as Jaskier's body forced itself to barely breathe. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night fully falls, as do both men. 
> 
> Dawn rises, as do both men.

Trudging back to camp, Geralt could feel his arm become steadily more numb- not immobile, but the bite, still steadily oozing, no longer ached. That wasn't the main annoyance, however.   
  
For a few glorious minutes, Geralt walked in silence. Then the shrieking started.   
  
At first, it sounded faint and warbled, like the ringing in his ears after getting hit upside the head. But it steadily grew louder and louder the closer he got to camp. It was consuming, and nothing he did was loud enough to block it out. Eventually, he saw a figure sitting in _his_ camp and his blood boiled over.   
  
It was mangled and too bright, a red and yellow coat that looked like it was made of sticky, wet skin. Too shiny against even the pale light of the moon. Its face was distorted and ugly, drooping and dizzying.   
  
Then it opened its mouth.   
  
Geralt let out a snarl as the figure matched the damned screeching he'd been hearing, incessant and loud. Even as he tried to intimidate it, it continued. He dropped his weapons in favour of the impulse to strangle the bastard with his bare hands to get it to stop fucking screaming.   
  
He toppled the creature over and dug his arms into its chest, forcing it up against the wet ground before gripping the column of its throat, relishing in the strangled croak it gave. The shrieking lessened, but not enough. Geralt's head swam as he adjusted his body, putting all of his weight into his hand, crushing the throat of the creature beneath him with as much force as it could. He could feel its blunt nails dragging across his arms, scrabbling at his chest.   
  
The heat beneath his palms only grew, and the sounds slowly grew quieter, so he resorted to mocking a hanging. He dragged the creature up from beneath him to pin it to the nearest tree, using both of his hands to hold it up against the tree, pushing his thumbs into the sides of its neck and his palms against the front.   
  
After a few moments of ragged struggling, the shrieking stopped, and the creature stilled. He could barely feel its pathetic heartbeat under his hand, and he gave it a few minutes before the poor thing would die on its own. He let the body drop before he returned back to camp, unphased and not questioning why he had double the supplies. He sat on his mat and closed his eyes, relishing in again blessed silence.   
  
*  
  
Jaskier woke with a raw gasp, his eyes fluttering open as he coughed into the mud against his cheek. It was still dark, and he couldn't feel most of his body due to the hotspot of pain that was his throat. He gulped in what air he could, though he coughed most of it back out. He felt drool and what was probably some blood trickle out of the corner of his mouth as he heaved, his head full of cotton and seeing double as he tried to stay awake.   
  
After a minute of struggling, his vision settled with very few white spots and static, but his throat stayed sore. He reached a hand up to feel around the skin- hot and bruised. No doubt some of it broken given the sting when he brushed his thumb over it.   
  
He glanced back to his and Geralt's camp, seeing the other slumped over on his mat. He stayed still, breathing quietly as he tried to wrench himself out of the mud he'd been left in. The dirt clung to his chemise and doublet, and no doubt had stained it beyond laundering repair.   
  
But his biggest worry was the Witcher. Dead asleep on his mat, either completely aware of what he'd just tried to do to Jaskier, or not- he was there. Jaskier's body rejected the thought of going over and joining him, staying put as he shivered, pressing against the base of the tree in the hopes it may be warm. 

It wasn't.   
  
*  
  
Geralt woke to Roach's huffing and stomping, blinking away a pounding headache as he pushed himself up. Immediately he crumpled, his arm giving out as his shoulder rejected the movement. Glancing down, his jaw tightened as he saw the new tears in his armour and clothing, as well as the untreated wound.   
  
The shoulder being untreated was the first red flag he noticed. As he pushed himself up on his working arm, the second flag was a distinct lack of a bard. Jaskier's sleeping mat was abandoned, covered in pine needles from the trees above them. Not overly dirty, but enough that there was no way he'd even used it during the night.   
  
Geralt's chest hollowed as he quickly turned around, looking for the bard. He noticed the shivering lump of red and yellow against the base of the nearest tree and froze.   
  
"Jaskier?"   
  
The lump whimpered, but Jaskier's head peeked out from behind his knees. Geralt could gag on how rotten and sour the air around him was, all rolling off of Jaskier in waves.   
  
"You're awake?"   
  
Jaskier's voice was soft and raw, and Geralt could hear the strain it took for the bard to speak. He also noticed Jaskier was covered head to toe in mud, hardly a patch of skin visible. He swallowed thickly and hummed, turning away.   
  
"Get back over here. Why were you over there?"   
  
Jaskier didn't answer as he tentatively pushed off the base of the tree. He stayed upright for a moment, swaying, before walking over. Geralt saw how he pivoted before passing, taking the longest way around to avoid going past Geralt to get back to his bedding. That was the third red flag for Geralt, who in turn offered a grumble.   
  
"We're leaving."   
  
Jaskier simply nodded, already rolling his bedroll up tightly, using the leather strap beneath it to bind it and add it onto the pack against Roach's side. He tried brushing the crusted mud off of his doublet, but gave up midway, his hands curling up into fists against his thighs.   
  
"Lute?"   
  
Jaskier offered a soft whine, shaking his head. "Uh, ruined. Last night. Mud got-" His eyes were avoiding Geralt now, and the Witcher could sense the fear rolling off of him. "Mud got all over it. Ruined the wood for sure. Best to just leave her here."   
  
Frowning, Geralt added his own pack onto Roach before mounting her, scraping the mud from his boots off of his shoes as he slid them into the stirrups. Jaskier stayed a few feet behind, awkwardly following along with his satchel bumping against his back in a soft mantra. It was slower than normal, which Geralt ignored.   
  
Jaskier had these fits before- he got upset and skittish but would be fine once he washed up.   
  
*  
  
Travelling under the morning sun, the mud beneath Roach crusted over and grew solid. The branches had also dried over the night, and would crunch whenever the horse stepped on them, or Jaskier.   
  
But Geralt only noticed the sounds as Roach moved. Jaskier hadn't said a word for the last hour, and they were only about fifteen or so minutes from the town. Turning back to address the bard, Geralt's stomach fell out from underneath him.   
  
He was alone.   
  
No bard. Jaskier was nowhere around that he could see, and he kicked himself for not noticing the distinct lack of his presence.   
  
"Fuck." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier has to break the news to Geralt that he's not out of the woods yet- injury wise, at least.

Jaskier watched, quietly, as Geralt pressed Roach into a steady trot. His poorly wrapped bedroll jostled more than it should have, and he watched as Geralt grumbled annoyed, fixing it a few times before stopping and tightening the leather strap on it, his eyes still fixed ahead of him and not at the bard.   
  
Jaskier almost felt guilty, in a sense. Geralt didn't seem to be wholly aware of the situation, but at the same time, he was furious at _something_ and Jaskier didn't want to push his buttons any further than he already had.   
  
He gingerly rubbed his neck, which was a mottled mess of purples and browns, and not well recovered yet.   
  
Not unless he wanted to be throttled again.   
  


So he kept quiet and kept his hands to himself. Without a lute to play, or a voice to fill the silence with, Jaskier found himself lost as he watched the forest roll by them as they made their way out of the bog-like area and back to drier land.   
  
He stopped suddenly when Geralt yanked on Roach's reins and swivelled in the saddle. " _Fuck_."  
  
Jaskier froze, staring ahead as he watched Geralt turn back around and sniff at the air. Were they being followed? Not likely, since Geralt hadn't reached for his weapons, and it was also unlikely of anyone being near them- they were still a good ways out from the town.   
  
"Geralt?"   
  
The Witcher froze and brought a hand up to his ear, his eyebrows pinched as he turned around again. Pained, in a way. Jaskier faltered before waving his hand. "Geralt, what's wrong?"   
  
A moment of silence before Geralt opened his eyes and stared right into Jaskier's own.   
  
"Where the fuck did you go, bard?"   
  
Jaskier made a wounded sound, scoffing as he fought back a cough. "Nowhere! I've been following you like the diligent little-" He didn't get to finish before Geralt's eyes screwed shut again and the Witcher gave an audible grumble.   
  
The only times Geralt had responded in such a way was back in a small village named Roustack. The villagers there were incredibly wary of a Witcher, and when Geralt had returned to be paid, they stiffed him and ran both Jaskier and Geralt out of town by banging pots and pans together, sending Geralt into what was essentially a sensitivity attack. It left him irritable and disoriented for an entire day- and he'd muttered just about every curse in every language he knew.   
  
"Is it the noise?"   
  
Geralt's head bobbed and Jaskier deflated. Perhaps that was what fueled the attack the night before. He was still terrified, and rightly so. Geralt was, in essence, a feral man. And Jaskier had never seen a more feral glare than last night- but he'd never before been victim to Geralt's true strength.   
  
"It's _you_ ," Geralt grit out, his eyes peeling open to stare at Jaskier. " _Stop fucking screaming_."   
  
For a moment, Jaskier let the world around him freeze. He needed to think before ever opening his mouth again, given the situation. Geralt was in pain, yes. From what? Jaskier could place two possible things; his potions, or an injury.   
  
Jaskier let his eyes wander Geralt's armour- muddy, full of debris and dried blood. It was too messy to make out an injury, but he noticed a few new holes near Geralt's right shoulder that hadn't been there the day before. He stayed quiet, but held up both hands. Geralt's body gave up some of its tenseness as Jaskier approached.   
  
He kept his voice uncharacteristically low, less of a whisper and more of barely breathing out words. Geralt seemed to respond better to that as he followed the instructions to " _Come down, let me check something._ "  
  
His intuition was right, and his hands peeled back the heavy leather of Geralt's armour to find a festering bite wound on Geralt's shoulder, with about four broken teeth embedded into the skin. A wonder as to how Geralt acted like nothing was there.   
  
Jaskier bit his tongue as he looked back up to Geralt.   
  
" _You need a healer. You've got a wound, and it's got teeth in it._ "   
  
Geralt glanced at his shoulder and his jaw tightened. "They're venomous. It's still in my system." He looked to Jaskier and shook his head. "Fuck- that's why I don't have any senses working properly. I couldn't even see you."   
  
In the moment, it would've been inappropriate to tack on the addition of ' _You also almost throttled me to death last night under the influence of whatever venom was in that bastard's teeth_ ', so Jaskier instead nodded and took a shaky breath.   
  
"Back to town then. We both need to see a healer. I can explain later."   
  
He didn't miss the flash of concern that crossed Geralt's face, nor the very quick flicker of the Witcher's eyes as he scanned Jaskier's body. For once in his life, Jaskier was happy he was covered in piss-scented mud.   
  
*  
  
The ride back to town was more difficult the closer they came, as Geralt was still heavily affected by what they both now knew as some sort of poison, venom- whatever- plaguing his system. Jaskier offered to lead Roach into town so Geralt could cover his ears, and the Witcher tentatively agreed.   
  
He looked much more willing to press his palms against his ears as the loud squabbling of villagers and animals picked up when they entered the town. Jaskier was careful to lead Roach directly towards the healer's little hut and not the inn. He tacked her against the closest tree, carefully tying off her reins before offering a hand up to the Witcher.   
  
It wasn't often Geralt accepted such coddling, but he could hardly focus against the pounding of his head, the disorientation of where his feet were, and the constant shrill screaming sounding in his ears. For a moment or two, the bard holding his hand morphed into a monster.   
  
Geralt's heart stalled as pieces from the night before finally clicked together.   
  
"Witch!"   
  
Jaskier's voice was raw.   
  
Geralt's eyes stayed planted on the ground as he was shuffled into the hut and forced to sit on a cot. The woman- a scraggly old, what looked to be perhaps a descendant of some half-elves from her sharp features- spoke with the bard.   
  
"It's his shoulder. There's teeth in the wound. They've messed with his senses."   
  
Jaskier's voice could hardly stay steady.   
  
Geralt's senses may have been dulled and messed with to the point of physical and mental exhaustion, but his brain cleared for a minute- which was plenty of time for him to realise what he'd done the day before.   
  
What his stupidity in dealing with an unknown monster had led him to do.   
  
He looked up to meet his bard's eyes, and as the teeth were pulled out of his shoulder with padded tongs, he could see and smell the undertones of fear rolling off of Jaskier. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Newsflash Geralt, you tried killing me! So my oh-so sincerest apologies for being apprehensive."

The healer's hands worked fast and neatly, and as Geralt fumbled with the newfound, albeit foggy, memories of the night before, he watched as his bard shuffled beside the old woman, whispering quietly about the monster's teeth.   
  
"And you're positive they're all out?"   
  
The woman scoffed roughly before spitting a wad of phlegm off into a spittle pot near the door. "Positive. I'd be a damn fool to bring a dead mutant's curse through my doors."   
  
Geralt found the hurtful words to fly over his head, and Jaskier bristled. Geralt expected a few crass words, and found himself almost upset when all his bard did was stay in place. It was unusual of him to not scold anyone who spoke badly of Geralt, even more so if he was hurt.   
  
_I definitely did something to deserve that, then_. Was Geralt's first afterthought as the woman dug around the wound's area again before packing in soggy cotton, soaked with a stinging brine and herbs. Geralt grunted as she wrapped his arm up properly.   
  
"Don't lift things."   
  
"I'll try not to."   
  
That seemed to please her well enough, and she turned to extend a grubby hand to the bard. The payment was always expected, and Jaskier kept his worried and somewhat miffed expression as neutral as he could bear as he gently set a few coins into her palm.   
  
"Thank you."   
  
Geralt made the move to stand before the woman clicked her tongue and he stopped, but that didn't stop Jaskier from pocketing his coin pouch, and it didn't alleviate the sting and sudden drop his stomach gave when the bard turned on his heel and left the hut without him.  
  
*  
  
The moment Jaskier was outside of the healer's hut, he blinked his eyes as fast as he could and used the cleanest part of his hand to wipe at the tears that had welled up in them. Geralt hadn't done anything wrong, but he was still terrified. He had to be absolutely positive Geralt was healed before even approaching him again.   
  
His throat still felt like a rope was loosely wrung around it, raw and bruised. The phantom pressure of Geralt's hands still felt warm and rough against his skin.   
  
He'd let the after-effects of poisoned blood run its course and run out of Geralt's system. He had to.   
  
He was halfway back into the forest before he remembered he'd have nothing if he left Roach and Geralt to themselves. He paused and glanced back at the town.   
  
He'd have just the same if he stuck around, though. And besides, Geralt would find him eventually.   
  
Even if Jaskier didn't want to be found, Geralt would come through spitting curses about how stupid the bard was being.   
  
*  
  
Geralt watched as Jaskier left and immediately sat back up to try and counter the healer's request.   
  
"Did he say where he was going? He'll be an idiot and get lost-"   
  
"He's not safe around you, Witcher. You're still under the effects of the venom."   
  
Geralt growled and shook his head. "I can tolerate it."   
  
The woman narrowed her eyes and let her lip curl into a sneer. "Tolerating doesn't mean you're any better off. I could tolerate a stab wound until I succumbed to it. You're better off waiting until dusk and resting. You shouldn't have even travelled with the teeth in you, much less used the damn limb."   
  
Arguing with an old woman would get him nowhere, but she wasn't in the position to dictate where he went if he did so with force. So, like the astounding patient he was, he got up with a grunt and grabbed his armour. "I'm leaving."   
  
"Can't stop you, can only advise against it, Witcher."   
  
He ignored the phrasing as he used his good shoulder to open the door of the hut back to revealing the town outside. Roach was still tied a few feet away, and as he'd expected, Jaskier had gone and stupidly _left._  
  
He even left his bedroll, bookbag, and his extra clothing. Geralt was grateful that without resting, at least he could still smell where Jaskier had wandered off to. He'd taken the East trail, the opposite of where they'd come out of the forest from, but the same path they'd travelled to get to the town in the first place.   
  
He saddled Roach after a moment of pain from hoisting himself up and spurred her into following the trail. The bard only had a ten or so minute headstart, and with Roach rested and fed, it'd be less than five if Geralt's nose was working as it should.   
  
*  
  
Jaskier heard the hoofbeats before he had the chance to think of how he'd go about leaving properly, and found himself sagging as he turned to face the horse and her rider.   
  
"What the hell did you think you were doing, Bard?"   
  
Jaskier rolled his eyes, scowling. "Leaving, Geralt. You're hurt and disoriented and I don't feel _safe,_ so I was going on my business."   
  
Geralt swallowed before letting his shoulders drop. "You are safe, you're being stupid. Now come on back and-"   
  
"Newsflash Geralt, you tried killing me! So my oh-so sincerest apologies for being apprehensive." Jaskier shot back, his voice catching on the words, clipping the end as he sucked in a tight breath. "You were- were hallucinating, or just _feral_ and you tried to throttle me to death last night! From whatever was in those damn teeth! You're not even healed yet! Who's to say you won't suddenly do it again, hm?"   
  
Geralt faltered, letting out a punched sigh as he looked down to the bard.   
  
"You were stupid and let yourself get injured and didn't have half the mind to check! You didn't even speak to me before you tried to kill me! I'm not even sure you knew what you were doing. You just left me there to die, I guess! A big ol' heap of Jaskier at the base of a tree, while you went about to sleep off some fucking monster venom, poison- whatever!"   
  
Jaskier took a few steps back, solidifying his plan to stay away. "So no. I refuse to come back until you're healed. I'm terrified of you right now, as much as I don't want to be."   
  
Geralt could only look on as Jaskier turned on his heel and pointedly walked down the path before breaking off and into the treeline, disappearing from sight after ducking into the thicker of the brush.   
  
"Fuck." 


End file.
